MARGARET. I daresay. [She mechanically takes out her cigarette-case, catches the lift of TWISDEN'S eyebrows, and puts it back]. WINSOR. Well, we'll go together. I don't want Mrs Dancy to hear. MARGARET. Do tell me, Mr Jacob; is he going to win? TWISDEN. I think so, Margaret; I think so. MARGARET. It'll be too--frightful if he doesn't get a verdict, after all this. But I don't know what we shall do when it's over. I've been sitting in that Court all these three days, watching, and it's made me feel there's nothing we like better than seeing people skinned. Well, bye-bye, bless you! TWISDEN rises and pats her hand. WINSOR. Half a second, Margaret. Wait for me. She nods and goes out. Mr Twisden, what do you really think? TWISDEN. I am Dancy's lawyer, my dear Charles, as well as yours. WINSOR. Well, can I go and see Canynge? TWISDEN. Better not. WINSOR. If they get that out of him, and recall me, am I to say he told me of it at the time? TWISDEN. You didn't feel the coat yourself? And Dancy wasn't present? Then what Canynge told you is not evidence--he'll stop your being asked. WINSOR. Thank goodness. Good-bye! WINSOR goes out. TWISDEN, behind his table, motionless, taps his teeth with the eyeglasses in his narrow, well-kept hand. After a long shake of his head and a shrug of his rather high shoulders he snips, goes to the window and opens it. Then crossing to the door, Left Back, he throws it open and says TWISDEN. At your service, sir. GILMAN comes forth, nursing his pot hat. Be seated. TWISDEN closes the window behind him, and takes his seat. GILMAN. [Taking the client's chair, to the left of the table] Mr Twisden, I believe? My name's Gilman, head of Gilman's Department Stores. You have my card. TWISDEN. [Looking at the card] Yes. What can we do for you?